Page 74 of Sugar

“Are you regretting your decision yet?” His question was light, but the way he watched me was anything but.

I gave him an honest answer when I shook my head. “You?”

“Never.”

Chapter 15

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EASTON

Fuck, I was close.

Inhaling deeply, I tried to slow my movements. Tried to pace myself. Tried to think about baseball stats, pain, and every other cliché trick to stop myself from exploding in her tight cunt before I was ready.

But I wasn’t in Maddie.

It wasn’t her pussy squeezing my dick. She wasn’t riding me while her perfect tits bounced as I slammed up into her. She wasn’t instantly following every demand with a natural submissiveness that made me want to push and push and fucking push. She wasn’t coating me in her sweet arousal while she came apart around me.

No one was.

It was my own hand that’d started working myself the instant my ass hit my couch. I hadn’t even taken off my clothes first. Hell, I’d barely waited until I was home. I was truly a sick bastard because if the partition glass in the town car would’ve beenoperational, I would have freed myself the second I was alone back there.

It wouldn’t have been the first time I’d stroked myself in a car after seeing Maddie.

A night with her had been torture. Sweet torture, but still fucking torture. She’d exceeded all expectations as a date. She was smart and delightful and funny. Christ, I couldn’t remember the last time someone consistently made me smile, much less laugh.

Those events were usually hell for the minimal length of time I stayed, but Maddie had made it enjoyable—even if the sight of her in that damn dress was enough to make me painfully hard the whole night.

Especially when the fabric would separate to show her tanned thigh.

It would’ve been easy to cover her hand on my leg and drag it up so she could feel the effect she had on me. It’d taken every ounce of control I had to just keep it pressed to me—pathetically grateful for whatever contact I could get. In my fantasy, though, I did what I wanted. I made her touch me while she stared at me with those innocent wide eyes.

I taught her what I liked before taking my time to learn what she liked. How she felt. How she tasted.

I slid my hand along the slit in her dress, hearing her gasp for me. Feeling her shift, needy and restless.

In my head, when she leaned closer to whisper to me, it wasn’t a conspiratorial act to make people think we were together. It was to beg me to touch her. To make her come.

I tightened my fist around my cock until it was one step below painful as I imagined sliding my fingers into her beneath the table. Working her faster. Ordering her to move how I wanted her. To do what I demanded.

Controlling her.

I imagined using the fabric of my tie to restrain her delicate wrists as she handed me her trust. Her submission. Her. The way she would cry my name echoed through my head, it was like she was there. Like it was happening.

My release hit suddenly, and I didn’t have the chance to grab anything to catch the load that shot out to land on my stomach and chest.

Fuck.

As my tunneled vision returned to normal, I hung my head back and panted.

The lack of control I felt when it came to Madeline Baker should’ve been enough for me to call off our arrangement. The torment definitely should’ve done it.

But I must’ve had a hidden masochistic streak because I didn’t consider it. Not for a second.

My conscience might’ve stopped me from having her the way I wanted her, but I would happily—greedily—take what I could get.

I mentally ran through my schedule for the week, but other than Dave’s birthday the following weekend, there were no other occasions that called for Maddie’s company. I didn’t think I had anything for a few weeks.